


Ultraviolence

by Knight_of_Cookies



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Choking, Drabble, Gen, Implied abuse, Nightshade, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knight_of_Cookies/pseuds/Knight_of_Cookies
Summary: Kylo thinks over his past."He knew now, the beauty had always been a lie. His poison was dried out and spent, his stem and leaf husk covered by the ghost of violent embraces. "





	Ultraviolence

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tsukhood's amazing drawing,  
> [Check it out HERE](https://monsterandthemaiden-reylo.tumblr.com/post/172431075703/tsukhood-he-used-to-call-me-d-n-that-stood) , I had the inspiration to write this small drabble. 
> 
> Also based off Lana Del Rey's song, "Ultraviolence"

_He used to call me DN,_

_that stood for deadly nightshade,_

_'Cause I was filled with poison,_

_But blessed with beauty and rage_

 

_\---_

The flower was called Atropa, after a goddess of fate. She was said to be able to cut the thread of life. Over the years of being forced to take sips of the plant’s essence Kylo often saw hallucinations of the goddess.

She called out to him, voice sweet and kind, her lucious black hair curling around him in a tight, unyielding embrace. Purple eyes  rimmed  with green twinkled in a wild joy as she strangled him from the inside-out, clutching him tight, making the world blur. She demanded his platitudes even as she held his tongue. Her kisses were bitter like her roots, her fleshy white hands wrapped around his neck. He swore he could feel the blade of her power against his soul. And her rich earthy voice whispered,

“ You look so beautiful when you can’t breathe.”

## —

His master cultivated gardens of Atropa and other toxins from around the galaxy, gathering them in dedicated bio-domes. The old man almost looked kindly as he walked amongst the radiant deathly flowers.

Kylo was part of his collection, he was assured,

“ You too, are a beautiful deadly thing,” the smooth voice encouraged, while a gnarled fingers ran over his brow. The bruising touch almost felt like affection.

One time he told to kneel in the center of the garden of death. A golden cup was placed to his lips as Snoke told him,

“ It is an old ritual: To consume the essence of death to become a lord over it, a God.” Gnarled fingers clamped his trembling jaw open, a toughened thumb pressing down his tongue as sweet liquid choked him. He was forced to drink, held in place by the old man’s will of the force. The bruising grasp became soft and comforting as he gasped for breath and convulsed under the bright green plants.

And so, he was pulled apart, petal by petal. The toxin entering him became one with his already deadly essence. And in the visions caused by the plant, he felt himself cradled in an embrace, though by who he dare not imagine. But he liked to think it was Atropa.

After years of ingesting it, he was no God and he knew now he had never been held by a goddess. He was just crushed purple petals and shriveled leaves.

## —

His darkened goddess could no longer kill him.

But yet, he still ate the berries that grew on her namesake, drank the essence of her fleshy white roots, inhaled the scent of her purple green flowers.

In his delirium, he buried himself in the soil as if he could take root and be reborn as some beautiful earthly thing.

He knew now, the beauty had always been a lie. His poison was dried out and spent, his stem and leaf husk covered by the ghost of violent embraces.

The world blurred as his hand absent-mindedly touched his parched throat. If only someone could come water him, his petals could unfurl once more towards the sun.


End file.
